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The Stars Cannot Rejoin the Old Reunion
NovelShort
new
완결
After the engagement, my best friend's hatred for my fiancé reached its peak. Clyde Henson had started quitting smoking for our plan to have a baby, but my best friend Summer Cox looked at the box of mints in his pocket and spoke in that snide tone of hers. "When a man suddenly changes his habits, it's usually to please some other woman. You don't have someone on the side, do you?"
챕터 (4)
第1章
After the engagement, my best friend, who had always leaned on me, reached a peak of loathing for my fiancé.
Clyde Henson had started quitting cigarettes for the sake of our plan to have a baby.
But Summer Cox looked at the little tin of mints in his pocket and spoke with that snide edge in her voice.
"When a man suddenly changes his habits, it's usually to please some other woman. You don't have someone on the side, do you?"
Clyde gave a cold snort and moved to show her out. I hurried over to stop him.
Summer rolled her eyes, all willful, spoiled temper.
"Clyde, did I hit a nerve? Now you're just embarrassed and lashing out?"
I didn't take it to heart.
This friend of mine had been doted on since childhood and never watched her mouth.
But Clyde couldn't stand a rich girl's tantrums, so the two of them bickered the moment they saw each other.
Then came the day of the wedding dress fitting, when I went back for the phone I'd left behind.
I had just picked it up when I heard Clyde's low, intimate voice come from the fitting room.
"You can't stand the smell of smoke but you'll still let me kiss you? Hide from me again and I'll keep you in bed all day."
Summer shot back, playful and sulky.
"Clyde, you should save some of your energy for going home and trying for a baby with Fern Summers."
"As if she deserves it. I only ever quit smoking for you."
I froze where I stood, my heart in shreds.
The man who had sworn he'd love only me for the rest of his life had finally become everything I hated most.
01
The fitting room went quiet for a moment.
Then Summer spoke again.
"Then why did you still get engaged to her?"
Clyde laughed.
"Fern has a gift for jewelry design. The company needs her right now."
"As for marriage, it doesn't get in the way of who I love."
I gripped my phone, my fingertips gone stiff.
So all the kindness he'd once shown me, all the words of praise, had been nothing but careful calculation for his own gain.
I didn't push the door open.
I only backed away, one step at a time.
My heel bumped a display stand, a small sound.
A shop assistant glanced over. I shook my head, turned, and walked out of the bridal shop.
The noon sun was so bright I couldn't keep my eyes open.
I lowered my head on instinct, and in that instant the tears came, big and heavy, dropping onto my phone screen.
The screen lit up, showing the calendar.
It read: Wedding countdown, twenty-seven days.
Clyde had set that up himself.
I stared at it for two seconds, then hit delete.
As the confirmation popup faded away.
My stomach suddenly heaved.
I grabbed the railing at the edge of the road, bent over, and gagged a few times.
My throat felt raw, but nothing came up.
I wiped my tears dry, and just as I reached the parking lot, Clyde and Summer came out too, one after the other.
"Stay away from me. Just looking at you annoys me."
Summer pulled open the car door, turned to look at me, and her voice switched to something remarkably gentle.
"Fern, breathing in too much gasoline isn't good when you're trying to conceive. You take the back seat."
Then she rolled her eyes at Clyde.
"Clyde, how can you care so little about anything to do with Fern?"
Clyde went along with it and pulled open the passenger door.
"Get in, and cut the chatter."
Summer settled into the seat as if it were only natural.
Seeing that, I said nothing. I opened the back door and got in.
The air conditioning was on, and the cramping in my stomach rose in waves.
I leaned back against the seat, a fine film of cold sweat breaking out on my forehead.
In the rearview mirror, I watched their eyes meet in the glass, then slide apart with a kind of secret understanding.
I looked away and turned toward the window.
My pale face was reflected in the glass.
Back home.
Clyde brought me a glass of warm milk.
"Why are you so pale?" His brows drew together, his eyes full of that familiar concern.
Summer issued orders in that snide tone. "Clyde, Fern has a bad stomach. Go make her something easy on it, quickly."
Clyde's face turned cold. "Summer, quit ordering people around here."
The two of them sniped back and forth a few times, as usual. Then Clyde turned and went into the kitchen.
Half an hour later, a rich aroma drifted out of the kitchen.
I walked to the kitchen doorway. Clyde was bent over the pot, stirring, making seafood chowder, Summer's favorite.
My breath caught. I looked at his back and spoke.
"Did you forget I'm allergic to seafood?"
Clyde's hands went rigid.
He turned around, a flicker of panic in his eyes. "Fern, I'm sorry, I... I forgot."
He clutched the ladle, his knuckles a little white, at a loss for what to say.
"It's fine," I said.
Then I turned and walked away.
I didn't go far. I stopped at the bend in the hallway.
At some point Summer had slipped into the kitchen.
The door was half shut, and their lowered voices carried out clearly.
"Honestly, you can't even make a bowl of chowder without upsetting her," Summer said with a soft huff.
Clyde sighed, an irritation he couldn't quite hide in his voice.
"She really is getting more precious by the day. Making a fuss over the smallest thing. Nothing like how sensible you are."
"Then go coax your fiancée."
"All right, stop teasing." Followed by a very soft laugh.
The cramp in my stomach spiked, and my throat clenched along with it.
I turned and walked back to the bedroom.
I went to the desk and opened my laptop.
I opened my inbox and dug out that email I'd left sitting there for so long.
It was a job offer from a top Paris jewelry design house.
The old me had turned down invitations from many firms, all to help Clyde.
But the me now wouldn't do that.
Another sharp cramp tore through my stomach, and cold sweat slid down the side of my forehead.
I typed at the keyboard and wrote out a reply in French.
"Thank you for the recognition. I accept the position."
第2章
Early the next morning, I went to the hospital.
When the endoscopy was done, the doctor set the report in front of me, his brows drawn tight.
"The ulcer is already very serious."
"Have you been taking some kind of medication lately?"
I nodded.
"Stop it immediately." The doctor tapped the report.
"These drugs are very hard on the stomach. Keep taking them and you could end up with a perforation."
I took the report and looked at the words printed there: severe stomach ulcer.
That medicine, I'd been taking it for nearly half a year.
Back then, I had found out by accident that Clyde actually had a low sperm count.
But I was afraid of wounding his pride, so I never told him.
I only said I had a weak constitution and had trouble conceiving.
I even had herbal remedies prescribed to strengthen my own body,
hoping that way to raise the odds of us having a child.
I laughed a little, and tears slid from the corners of my eyes without my meaning them to. All of this I'd done, and for what, in the end?
Half a year of giving, and what it bought me was no love, only a body full of illness.
Leaving the hospital, I went to the studio.
Paris was pressing me for an answer, so I meant to wrap up the last of my work and then hand in my resignation.
I'd barely reached the door when Summer's voice came from inside.
"Clyde, I want to enter the International Rising Talent Contest this time."
"Fern's whole Starfield collection, hasn't she already had it ready for half a year?"
She dragged out the words, like she was asking for a gift she could just help herself to.
"Give it to me, will you?"
Clyde laughed low.
Through the half-open door, I saw him lift his arm around Summer's waist and draw her in against him.
"I'll go find her in a bit and have her hand the sketches over. You'll be the one to submit them."
"But Fern's been preparing that for half a year. Will she really give it up?"
Clyde let out a laugh.
"She does everything I say. Why would she refuse?"
Summer reached up and hooked a finger around his tie.
"Then I want the originals. If anyone ever looks into it, I'm not taking the fall."
"I know."
Clyde took her hand and lifted it to his lips.
"I'll go find her in a bit and have her hand the sketches over. You take them and submit them."
Standing outside the door, listening to the two of them, I felt my heart go a little colder.
The first sketch of the Starfield collection, I'd drawn it the night he proposed.
That night Clyde slipped the ring onto my finger and said that from then on, every piece I made would carry his name.
And now it truly would.
Only the name on it was going to be Summer's.
Footsteps came from inside.
I stepped back and let go.
The door opened.
Clyde saw me, and his movements gave a visible hitch.
"Fern?"
He glanced back over his shoulder and pulled the door shut behind him.
By the time he turned around again, the panic in his eyes was gone.
He came over and took my hand.
"Why are you so cold? Is your stomach still bothering you?"
The familiar concern settled over me, so gentle there wasn't a single crack in it.
I looked at him and didn't pull my hand away.
Clyde tucked a strand of hair back behind my ear.
"You haven't been well lately. You need rest. We're still trying for a baby, you can't overdo it."
He paused, and his voice went softer still.
"Leave the draft for the contest with me. I'll submit it for you. You don't have to worry about a thing."
I looked at that hypocritical face of his and slowly nodded.
"All right."
I took the USB drive out of my bag and set it in his palm.
Clyde seemed to breathe easier, his fingers closing around it at once.
"Fern, once the contest is over, I'll go with you to see the doctor."
I dropped my eyes to that hand, the one that had once slipped the ring onto my finger.
The drafts on the drive carried hidden anti-counterfeit markers. He didn't know.
The moment the drafts were in his hand, the smile on his face deepened a shade.
Then he made some excuse and left.
I watched his back as he walked away, a cold laugh in my chest.
If it's something the two of you want, then I'll give it to you.
Whether you can hold on to it, that's no longer my concern.
第3章
Back home, I pulled open the wardrobe and took out my suitcase.
Then I went to the safe, keyed in the code, and drew out a yellowed document.
《Design-Credit Waiver Agreement》.
Five years ago, when Clyde Henson's company ran out of cash, he stood on the rooftop and nearly jumped.
I went to the biggest investor in the industry and traded five years of my talent and my design credit for the ten-million lifeline that saved him.
I never told him.
He always believed heaven had smiled on him, that some mysterious backer had bet on his talent.
My eyes moved to the signing date on the page.
Another two weeks, and the agreement would expire.
I folded the document, tucked it into the bottom compartment, and zipped the suitcase shut.
The click was strangely loud in the quiet bedroom.
Early the next morning, I pushed open the studio door.
Summer Cox was sitting at my workstation, a carving tool in her hand, cutting into a piece of raw stone.
Chips scattered across the bench.
My gaze fell on the gray-blue stone, and my blood froze on the spot.
It was the only thing my mother had left me.
An exceedingly rare rough gray-blue gemstone.
I crossed the room and pinned Summer's wrist.
She jumped, her brows knitting.
"Fern, what's wrong?"
"Where did this stone come from?"
"Clyde gave it to me."
"Clyde gave it to you?"
I stared at the rough stone in her hand.
Before my mother died, she'd pressed it into my palm and told me that on my wedding day, I should make it into a necklace with my own hands.
Now a corner had been cut away.
The flowing veins that once ran through it had been carved into fragments.
I pushed Summer aside, turned, and went straight to Clyde's company.
When I pushed open his office door, he was in a meeting.
I set the rough stone down on the table.
"That gray-blue rough stone. Did you give it to Summer?"
The smile on Clyde's face froze for an instant.
Then he cleared everyone out of the conference room.
He came toward me quickly, looking at the stone on the table.
"Fern, don't be upset yet. What exactly happened?"
"I'm only asking you one thing. Did you give it to her or not?"
Clyde avoided my eyes and picked up the stone, glancing at it.
"Someone downstairs must have grabbed the wrong one. I told them to find materials for Summer's competition piece. I never thought they'd touch your things."
"The wrong one?"
I looked at him and reached for the stone.
Clyde closed his hand around it first.
"It's already been cut. Switching materials now would set the schedule back."
He softened his voice and lifted a hand toward my shoulder.
I turned aside to avoid it.
"Give it back to me."
His hand stalled in midair.
"Fern, this competition is our company's best shot at breaking into the international market."
"Summer's already halfway through the piece. Think of the bigger picture and let her finish it."
I stared at the crack that had been forced open.
The veins my mother left behind had been altered beyond recognition.
Summer had even carved an elaborate pattern over it, gaudy as some cheap knockoff in a shop window.
"This is my mother's keepsake."
"I know."
Clyde's throat moved.
"When the competition's over, I'll give it back to you. You can do whatever you want with it then. All right?"
Once something is ruined, what good is getting it back.
I was about to speak when my stomach twisted hard.
I braced myself against the edge of the table, cold sweat sliding down my temple.
Clyde reached out to steady me.
"Is it your stomach again? Let me take you to the hospital."
"No need."
I pushed his hand away, turned, and went to the restroom.
Cold water hit my face, but the pain gnawing at my belly wouldn't stop. I leaned on the sink and waited for the black haze in front of me to clear.
Footsteps came from outside.
"Mr. Henson really doesn't hold back. That rough stone was left to Director Summers by her mother."
"Wrong one, my foot. Mr. Henson took it out of the safe himself. Miss Cox said she liked it, so of course he handed it over."
The other lowered their voice.
"Who in this company doesn't know what's going on between them. Only Director Summers is still in the dark."
"Shh, keep it down. Isn't Mr. Henson about to marry her?"
"Marriage is one thing. But what he's up to on the side…"
The laughter carried in through the door.
I stood inside the stall, clamping a hand over my mouth so I wouldn't make a sound.
Five years of design credit, ten million in funding, the drafts I stayed up all night for, and the medicine I swallowed in his place.
I gave everything I had to give.
And he took it all to coax another woman.
The footsteps outside slowly faded.
I pushed open the door and walked to the mirror.
Looking at how pale my own face was in the glass, I gave a bitter smile.
Then I lowered my head, slipped off the engagement ring, and put it in my bag.
All of it ended here.
第4章
I came out of the restroom, but I didn't go back to my office.
Instead, I called the lawyer holding my mother's estate.
"Clay James, I want my mother's keepsake back."
Half an hour later, Clay and I walked into the studio with proof of ownership.
I set the documents down in front of Summer.
"Give me the rough stone back."
Her fingers tightened around the carving knife, and something flickered in her eyes.
"Fern, what's gotten into you? Clyde just gave me this stone."
"We're best friends. Whatever it is, we can talk it out. Why bring a lawyer into it?"
The words had barely left Summer's mouth when I heard quick footsteps at the door.
Clyde pushed it open, saw Clay, and his face went dark at once.
"Fern, do you really have to drag a stranger in and make this so ugly?"
I looked at him.
So in his eyes, taking back my mother's keepsake counted as making a scene.
Clay slid the proof of ownership across to him.
"Mr. Henson, this rough stone belongs to Ms. Summers. It was taken and used without her permission, and she has every right to reclaim it immediately."
Clyde glanced at the papers, and his brow pressed lower.
"This is a family matter between us."
"Not for much longer."
He stiffened.
Summer set down the carving knife right away, her eyes rimming red.
"Fern, aren't we best friends? I really didn't know this was your mother's keepsake."
She held the rough stone out to me, but her fingers were slow to let go.
"I didn't do it on purpose. If it means this much to you, of course I'll give it back."
I gripped the stone and pulled it free.
The cracked edge dug into my palm, a dull ache.
Clyde reached out to stop me.
"Fern, Summer already apologized. Do you have to take it this far?"
I stepped around his hand and slipped the stone into the evidence bag.
"It's mine. I'm taking it."
Then I turned and walked out.
Behind me, a few seconds of silence.
Clyde called my name.
I didn't look back.
Back home, I packed the rest of my clothes into my suitcase and bought a ticket on the next flight to Paris.
Our photo was still sitting on the desk.
In it, he had his arms around me from behind, both of us wearing matching engagement rings.
Back then he'd said he would never let go.
I tore the photo in half, then dropped it into the trash along with the engagement ring.
Next I threw the stomach-illness diagnosis and the agreement I'd signed five years ago into the pot I used to boil my medicine.
I struck a match and watched the flame curl slowly up the pages.
The millions in funding, the five years of credit that carried his name, the six months of bitter medicine I'd swallowed for him, all of it turned to ash.
Downstairs, the taxi had already arrived.
I wheeled my suitcase out and closed every one of my domestic accounts.
The driver asked where I was going.
"The airport."
Outside the window, the house I'd lived in for five years grew smaller and smaller.
I didn't look back.
This time, it was really over.